


something wicked

by wrennette



Category: Constantine (2005), Ghost Rider (2007)
Genre: Balthazar is only here to get roasted, Blanket Permission, DON'T COPY OR REPOST TO ANOTHER SITE, Evil Author Day, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: The Rider gets rid of Balthazar.  Constantine is appreciative.
Relationships: Johnny Blaze/John Constantine
Kudos: 9





	something wicked

**Author's Note:**

> happy evil author day! For those unfamiliar with the premise, ead is annually on 02/15, and we evil authors post fic titles, snippets, and so forth with absolutely zero promise that these works will be continued or completed. this fic may have been posted to lj back in the day, but it didn't get posted here yet, so here you go, happy ead!

The surge of evil was palpable, even during daylight hours.

"Something wicked this way comes," Johnny murmured. In the back of his mind, he heard the words in the low growl of his night-time guise. He smirked, an expression he hadn't used much until he had become the Ghost Rider, and found himself using rather frequently since. The sun was dipping toward the western horizon, and he followed it down into the Los Angeles basin. The smog clouded what little sun remained, and Johnny felt the Rider under his skin, thrumming with anticipation, burning to be freed.

"Soon," he growled softly. "Soon."

In L.A., Balthazar shifted uncomfortably, a niggling feeling crawling up his spine. He ran his eyes over Constantine again. He didn't fear that bastard, not at the moment anyway. Maybe some other night, some other place, but not right now. Not in the carefully neutral confines of Papa Midnight's club. He finished his drink and scanned the rest of the clientele. No one here should have his nerves set so firmly on edge. He tensed and released his shoulders, then paid his tab and slipped from the establishment. 

Three blocks away, Balthazar went still, unsure what to make of the fire wreathed skull grinning at him from atop a leather clad motorcycle rider. Old knowledge tickled at the back of his brain. The demon swallowed drily, wishing he had stayed at Papa Midnight's.

Johnny grinned broadly, not that anyone was able to distinguish that from his normal expression. A flaming skull really only had one look, the smiling rictus of death. But somehow the demon spawn that he had been hunting seemed to know, drew back slightly. Johnny could feel the evil shrouding the thing, emanating from it like a dense fog. He took hold of his chain, let the heavy links clatter against the pavement as he flicked out the length. To its credit, the demon only straightened himself, still steady and seemingly unafraid. 

"Guilty," Ghost Rider ground out, the sound of bones scraping and tombs opening, and with a flick of his wrist, he had the hellspawn bound. He pulled it close, stared deep into its eyes and saw all the evil it had perpetrated. He was still grinning as the demon began the thrash and scream, finally understanding its fate. Too late. A rictus of deathly fear froze onto the demon's face and Johnny let it drop to the pavement. He turned with a shrill whistle, and his mount cried out and sidled up to him. He mounted her, then turned, fixing the approaching man with his eyeless gaze.

The man stilled, staring wide-eyed. Johnny reached out, felt at the man with his ill-gotten skills. He had a stain on his soul, but he was no true evil doer. Johnny revved the engine, and the few remaining windows rattled and shattered.

"Ghost Rider," the man said softly, his voice rough and low. Johnny nodded, and he was still grinning, although he knew the man wouldn't be able to tell.

"You probably don't want to be near here," Ghost Rider said, as kindly as he was able, but he really only had one tone after dark. The man snorted.

"But I haven't got your address to send you a thank you note," the man said facetiously. "I'm been trying to deport Balthazar for some time, but I never seem to catch the half-bred bastard with his pants down." Johnny grinned at that. Deport indeed. "I'd buy you a beer," the man said. "But I don't think that would work very well." 

Johnny was the one who snorted at that. It was difficult, but he had gotten a lot better at his concentration since he first became the Rider. He pushed the Rider down beneath his consciousness, and the roar of the bike's engine shifted as she shed her guise as well. He was Johnny Blaze again.

"Fuck me," the fellow breathed, and Johnny let his eyes travel slowly over the trim body, a decided leer developing on his face.

"How about that beer first?" Johnny asked. "Climb on, the old girl won't hurt you." 

The man hesitated, and when he did sling his leg over the bike behind Johnny, Johnny could feel his passenger's arousal, his racing heart. Johnny grinned and revved the engine, and as he peeled rubber, the man behind him lurched forward, clinging tightly to him.


End file.
